After Everything
by MMMMmmmrrrrrmmmm
Summary: A collection of one shots.
1. Info, please read

Ok, so, as you decided to click into my stuff, **I ADVISE YOU TO READ THIS BEFORE CLICKING "NEXT CHAPTER". **

**These are all one-shots, which means you can start anywhere. I'd suggest you start in the back and read forward, as I'm working on improving my writing. I.e. the ones in the back are better.**

**If any of the one-shots are particularly popular and I get any request, combined with if it's not a closed ending, I might post it as another story and continue it. **

**Here's a list of the one-shots if you have any preferences:**

Chapter 1: "All, a little bit off" - Post-war Angeline/Fred/George, not threesome

POV: 1st person

Chapter 2: "Jealousy" - Angsty Hufflepuff

POV: 1st person

Chapter 3: "Losers" - Post-war. Overthrowing the government

POV: 1st person

Chapter 4: "Perfect Eternity" - Horace Slughorn living his perfect life, or is it really perfect?

POV: 1st person

Chapter 5: "The Sound of Death" - Severus Snape thinking about Lily Evans

POV: 1st person

Chapter 6: "As Green as Killing Curses" - Tom Riddle's favourite colour, and the colour of Harry Potter's eyes  
POV: 3rd person

Chapter 7: "It's lonely in my Mind" - Harry Potter misses the horcrux

POV: 1st person


	2. All, a little bit off

My boyfriend died yesterday. Today I kissed him under the pine tree in the garden.

His red hair shone brightly against the cold spring sun. I thread my fingers through it, like I always did when we were together like this. He smiled at me. The smile looked so familiar, but there was something off about it.

Everything was a little off.

The length of his hair. The tiny wrinkles of stress by his eyes. The placements of his freckles. All of them. A little, little bit off.

In the end. He wasn't Fred.

"Angelina." George looked at me. His brown eyes catching the sunlight in this so familiar but yet unfamiliar sight. "We should go inside, you'll freeze to d… you'll catch a cold out here." He stopped himself, continuing as if nothing happened. It almost happened. And both of us knew what it was. Everyone knew these days.

Death, a word no one dared to utter. Everyone in wizarding britain lost someone in the war. A friend, parent, cousin, uncle, mentor… or a lover. It was that one word, which would bring a shadow over everyone's gaze. Would make them stiffen, silent or bring the glistening reflection of water to their eyes.

"No." I shook my head and buried it in the crook of his neck. My nose brushed against his plain woolen jumper. He didn't wear his Weasley sweater today. There was no George without Fred, after all. Gred could not exist, with only George. Forge could not exist with only George.

"Can't we stay a little bit more?" My voice sounded muffled, even to my own ears, as I spoke into the woolen fabric. But he understood. He probably understood even better than me.

"Ok." He replied.

Strong arms wrapped around me.

My boyfriend died yesterday. And a cheap imitation of him is standing in front of me. He looked so alike, felt so alike. I could close my eyes and feel his embrace, and pretend we were back. Back before everything. And he would be my Fred. He was not.

But maybe.

Maybe I could get used to the misplaced freckles, the longer hair and the lighter glimmer in his brown eyes.

Maybe one day, but not today.


	3. Jealousy

If people were wind, Ginny Weasley would be a beautiful and fiery storm.

I hated storms.

Me? I would be the small gusts of wind no one really noticed. No one felt it, no one thought about it, no one paid it any mind. Invisible. Never special enough to be noticable.

I was "just another Hufflepuff". Someone who wasn't brave, wasn't cunning, wasn't smart. We were no one special.

She was a Gryffindor poster girl. With her beautiful long red hair and courage. She was defiant. She stood up for herself and others. Ginny Weasley: a heroine.

She was everything I wanted to be.

I wonder how it felt like to be brave?

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When I got to know about it, I was so excited to share classes with Harry Potter. He was the boy who lived. Someone everyone knew who was. A person, so unlike me. A Hufflepuff girl.

But in our second year as Slytherin's monster roamed the school, _she _was there. Ginny Weasley.

The hero saved the future heroine from death. The perfect romance story.

How I wanted that to be me.

I was jealous. I wished something could happen to me. Something special. I wanted to stand out. But yet, I didn't show it. I knew that it wasn't her fault that Harry Potter saved her.

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In fifth year, I was excited to be able to join the DA. I was going to show them that I could also be a heroine in the story. I wasn't just another Hufflepuff.

I could finally be brave. But yet… I felt so scared.

What if we were caught? What if I was expelled? What would happen? What if what if what if?

I hated it. This uncertainty. My own cowardice and second thoughts. Why couldn't I be like Ginny Weasley? Always standing proudly without a single hesitation or glint of fear in her eyes?

What made her so much better than me?

Why was she the perfect heroine, and I, just another background character?

It wasn't fair.

I clawed marks into my arms and legs. Enjoying the sight of red marks breaking the pale skin. Hating it. Hating myself. Hating everything. Why did I have to be born such a _coward_?

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––-

Harry Potter didn't come back for his last year.

I didn't know whether I was relieved or disappointed Ginny Weasley didn't join him too. They weren't together. They weren't the perfect couple. Fighting evil together, like in beautiful fairy tales. But that meant she was here with me. At Hogwarts. A constant reminder that she existed, that someone so perfect to existed, in contrast to my own imperfection.

It was worse than it had been the last years.

With Death Eaters taking over the school, that beautifully defiant look had an almost constant presence in her eyes. And how I loved to hate that look. She talked back. She took her punishment. She glared. They couldn't break a heroine.

I was not one. I broke in front of their presence. I cried. I backed out. My gaze was set all but permanently on the floor. A sheep, like everyone else. No one special. _Hufflepuff._

How I wished, after all the times I kept my mouth shut, held my gaze down or stood silent, that I had done something about it. I imagined wonderful scenarios, where I confronted them. I spoke back, I won my fights. I was admired. Beautiful and strong. Like _her._

Cowardice and fear gripped me; nailed my whole self into the floor every single time. I said to myself: "_next time, next time, I will stand up for myself. Next time I will save the others. Next time, I will finally do something._" Next time never happened. And as a thousand 'what if's filled my head with the same ferocity as a dementor's presence would've created, I cried. Again and again. The tears never stopped. Ginny Weasley never cried.

Coward.

The red marks turned to blood. They bled. And bled. And bled.

What does it feel like to be brave?

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Of course. I was also too afraid to end it all.

Harry Potter came back. He and Ginny Weasley. The perfect couple. The hero and the heroine. Finally reunited.

Jealousy burned like fire.

Emotions were supposed to fuel the power of your spells, right? But maybe envy was such a weak, petty emotions that it didn't make a difference. An ugly thing.

Weak and petty, like me. Jealousy. It fitted me, I realized.

Because in the end. Who was I? No one special.

At least I could be jealous, if nothing else. I held onto it.

A Hufflepuff. I don't know when it came to that, but I realized I hated that house. The rest house. A very synonym to "nothing special". It was the final proof of my own uselessness.

Sometimes I wondered if I would get sorted into Slytherin if I got a resort. Hatred. Spite. Ambitions.

But maybe not. I was weak after all. I didn't have the drive to fulfill my ambitions. No resolve to change anything in my life. All dreams and no drive.

So weak. So terribly weak.

When I was alone, the knife was strong in my hands. At least I had control of how my blood flowed. I took comfort in it.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It was all coming together.

I hid. I ran away from their spells. And once when I had an opening. An opportunity to show what them that I could be useful and strong… I tripped.

And I fell.

I fell.

I failed.

Again and again.

Why was it, that the heroes never fell? They cast their spells, screamed their words of bravery. All so graceful and heroic.

Why did I have to fall, when they always shone like stars when the moment came?

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Harry Potter killed you know who.

I never managed to bring myself to say his name. Always too afraid of it.

And they became heroes. They became the perfect couple in the perfect ending.

I watched from the distance.

Ginny Weasley's hair shone as beautiful as ever in the spring sun as she kissed her boyfriend. He held her tight in his arms.

How the jealousy burned. It burned and burned till it was nothing left but jealousy itself.

I wanted to cut it off. I wanted to mar her perfect face. To break her courage. Break her bones. One for one. Make her fall, make her cry, make her look as pathetic as I always have looked.

I wondered, if this was the resolve I always lacked.

The knife felt strong in my hand as I walked.

Is this how bravery feels?


	4. Losers

We lost the war.

We lost out world… to _them_. To _their _tyranny.

And we were thrown away. Our leaders dead or in Azkaban. Powerless. The rest of us were locked away in our homes. One foot out of line and we'd keep the dementors company too.

The world was burning. Everything was lost now.

But we still met in secret. We still talked in hushed whispers. In the darkest corners in Knockturn Alley. Their control was in Diagon, after all.

We exchanged news.

"_Did you hear about the new law the Ministry is pushing through?"_

"_Yes, I have. Isn't it simply horrifying?"_

"_I know, I know…"_

We dreamed of truths which would never read reality.

"_If he only hadn't died. The world could've been a far better place. Not like this… mess. Because that's what it is. A mess. Where's the control? The proper leadership in Britain?"_

"_I wonder how it would've been. If we had won? He would've made this world so much better."_

"_He really is gone…"_

"_I'm afraid that the whispers of his survival has been the frail dreams of the weak."_

We tried to keep our spirits up.

"_We're still here, at least."_

"_Yes, of course. I don't know what I would've done without you here. I can't imagine you being with them in such a dreadful place as Azkaban."_

"_Me neither."_

"_Let's pray we'll have each other forever."_

And we fought. In the shadows, where no one could see us. We tried. Small steps. Small, small steps.

"_I talked to Elisabeth, she knows someone who's up in the Auror department. And apparently, he's not completely on their side."_

"_Oh? Tell me more about this man, please."_

"_He is really…"_

And one day, an opening came.

"We got a chance!" She came running in through the front door, breathing hard, so unlike her usual composed self.

My head whipped up on its own accord. "What?" Fell out of me. 'A chance? For what? How big? What was the risks?' I wanted to ask, but I knew she would eventually come to it.

"The minister. He's doing a tour for the next election. And do you know who he chose as his personal guard?"

"Enlighten me."

"_Our _man."

In a room filled with a thousand discarded plans, we sketched up another one. A new conviction. A new hope. '_This could work, this plan, it could work! Finally!'_

We discussed. Our voices low, but excited and so full of this energy our usual hopeless days had previously sucked out of us.

"He'll have guards there too! We can't choose that route. We can't afford to loose."

"There won't be any big obvious holes in this plan. He's the _Minister, _after all. We'll have to take a risk, whether we'll choose this or that plan."

"But…"

And one day. The day came.

We went and watched the speech. I would sneak off around the middle. _Then _it would happen. We would make everything as it should be. All the waiting. All the pretending to be resigned and accepting of the new regime… everything was for this one moment.

We would win. We would get our victory. As it should've been. As we deserved.

A spell fired off.

My heart beat faster than it ever had beat.

"Look out!"

Voices shouted all around me as the explosions went off.

"Get out of the way!"

"My son? Where's my son!?"

"Help!"

"Where are the aurors?!"

"Help me! Help me!"

I wasn't used to this. The war was too long ago. The chaos. The panic. What was I doing again? I felt bodies push against me. Blood stained the ground. What was the plan again?

Next stage…

"Oh."

_Stage 8: Get out of there. Fast._

I didn't even get the time to scream, as I saw the explosion went off in front of me.

Closer and closer. As if I could see every single particle of dust rolling up.

"Cissa!" A familiar voice shouted far away. I didn't hear it.

Closer… closer...

Green eyes fell onto my form as it hit me. Minister of Magic, Harry Potter, looked just as surprised to see Narcissa Malfoy getting blown to pieces in front of him.


	5. Perfect Eternity

The sunsets at Hogwarts were always beautiful. Standing on top of the Astronomy tower, I watched perfect combinations of reds, yellows and oranges flow together in a picture of utter serenity.

It was as if I could watch it for an eternity.

Classes today had been just normal. The students behaved as always. Poor Warren spilled her flobberworm spit down on the floor, though. But a day without some sort of accident would be unusual.

And as the resident Potion master: I, Horace, was tasked to minimise these accidents, and teach the blooming new generation about the fine art of Potion making.

Such a wonderful occupation, to be able to see the newest generation grow up laughing and smiling… to be able to stand by and guide the people who would be the next Ministers, Department Heads and inventors.

And that was maybe my favourite part of Hogwarts: to see young, talented wizard and witches grow to their full potential. Walk beside them and give them the opportunities they deserved… It was simply wonderful.

In my heart, I knew I could have done this forever.

Taking a last breath of the cool evening spring air, I turned to walk down to my quarters again. Although, not after taking a last glance at the disappearing sun. Smiling, I made my way down the countless stairs of Hogwarts. The familiar grey stone walls made me feel as home as always.

As I approached a corner, I heard a particular set of footsteps I knew well. A smile formed on my lips.

A tall boy with dark, wavy hair and a set of grey eyes rounded the corner towards me.

And of course. The most beautiful star of all the brilliant students I have ever taught: Tom Riddle.

If I ever found a word to describe that young man, it would be something more perfect than perfection itself.

While possessing a stunning face and grace which even the elves would be jealous of, Tom was a remarkably gifted student: he excelled in every subject in the school but also dug deep into the foundations of magic. With a knowledge which never ceased to impress, he harboured the most exceptional mind. I had no doubt that he would become something great one day. Something bigger than anyone could have imagined.

"Tom!" I greeted, the smile still present on my mouth.

He smiled back and stopped beside me. "Professor Slughorn! What a nice pleasant to meet you here. Were you up to see the sunset again?" Inquired Tom, tilting his head ever so slightly.

I laughed. "You know me so well, Tom. Ah, yes. The sunset at Hogwarts is truly an unrivalled sight… well, I won't ramble about that again. What brings you to these corners on such a late hour?"

"Well, I switched patrols with Burke this evening. He had some… pressing matters to attend, so I offered to take his prefect rounds." He gestured with a hand towards where I came from.

"Very thoughtful of you, Tom. I'm glad we have students as you here at Hogwarts. Poor Burke, his uncle falling ill at such a time." I shook my head, feeling dejected on behalf of such a promising boy.

Tom nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed, Professor."

"Well! I can't keep you from your duties, can I?" My smile returned full force. "I will retire now, myself. Hopefully dreaming about perfect sunsets…" I chuckled at my own joke.

Tom's lips twitched upwards. "I will bid you goodnight then, Professor, and pray the sight of Hogwarts' sunset made a good enough impression on your mind to make it want to see it again this night." He nodded to me, and continued on his rounds.

Yes… Tom Riddle, he was simply perfect. To imagine someone like that ever doing any wrong was just unthinkable.

The rest of the walk down to my quarters was spent with myself and only myself. Musing about the wonders of life, I couldn't help but smile into nothingness.

"What a perfect life."

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Albus Dumbledore sighed as he heard the Healer's monthly report.

"So the chance is only getting smaller?" His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

She shook her head, her own expression grim and somber as well. "I'm afraid no. He's been in this coma for a year now. Only miracles will wake them up, when it has come to this."

He sighed.

Horace Slughorn would never wake up. Maybe his current dreams were easier to live in than the world he had to confront with his awakening.


	6. The Sound of Death

The sound of death was a familiar bubbling laughter. Its face would have soft features and green eyes.

And its smile could soften the most cutting eyes, and its temper could lay any man in ruins.

I always knew my obsession with Lily Evans would be the death of me.

She was my only hope for getting through every summer: the fiery light in my pitiful existence.

Sometimes I wonder if I had ended it all of it wasn't for her. Because what else did I have to look forward to, if not for her beautiful smile directed at me? Smiling at me despite all my flaws and unworthiness.

I knew about the Houses at Hogwarts from my mother. She didn't like to talk about her school days or the school in general that much, but she did tell me how all the students were sorted into different houses.

Bravery. Intelligence. Loyalty. Cunning.

That day, I realised that the possibility was there: me and Lily could be separated. I dreaded the day of the sorting. The question nagging in the back of my mind the whole summer before my first year: were I and Lily too different? Was her fiery temper and my shallow acceptance too different?

The train ride, while being enjoyable and exciting, was also a constant reminder of our impeding destiny. It was always there. Eating a chocolate frog—where would she be sorted? Or maybe playing a muggle card game with her—could we get into the same house?

Gryffindor. She was became a Gryffindor.

Not long after, the messy-haired git we met on the train was sorted into the same house. But I knew that I would up with hundred James Potters if I only could stay with Lily.

I gritted my teeth.

The hat's lid obstructed my view of the Great Hall.

_Hmm…_

A sound echoed through the small space inside the hat. Like it was not just a hat, but a cathedral or an empty courtroom. My breath stopped that moment. How I froze in anticipation and dread...

_You did what you had to survive. Although. I'm afraid you would never fit in in the house of your friend. _

And a moment after before I could even process the words, it shouted out:

"Slytherin!"

It all happened so fast. A moment later, the Scottish woman—Mcgonagall—ushered me off the chair and another name was called upon. A moment later, I greeted the other Slytherins at the table. A moment later, and a moment too late.

I wondered what would have happened, if I had protested. Put up a bigger fight against the Sorting Hat's choice. Would it have taken my words into consideration?

But maybe if I had had the resolve to do that, my placement wouldn't have been a problem in the first place.

We still spent time together between our classes.

Despite us not having as many classes together as I would've liked to, it was all nice.

James Potter and the Gryffindor Black seemed to hate me, the Slytherins sneered at my name which they didn't recognize and all the other houses seemed to go in small circles around the Slytherins, which included me.

But I had Lily. My light and counsellor. My best and only friend.

She still smiled to me, despite the green rope of a tie hanging around my neck like a sleeping tiger, ready to strike and tear apart everything and everyone.

I assumed it would always go on like this. We'd meet up after our last classes to do homework together. She would laugh at my dry jokes and comfort me whenever I felt down. And I would smile patiently as she rambled on about whatever which was on her mind. I would watch as her green eyes would light up as I explained the use of rare magical plants in potions. It would always be like that.

Then she started speaking to James Potter.

The messy-haired insufferably popular _git _who always tried to humiliate me. Just because Lily spent more time with _me _than with _him_. As if that wasn't an easy choice. Who in the world possessing a single shred of intelligence would want to spend time with James Potter?

But then she did so.

It started in our 5th year. She stopped ignoring his ridiculous advances a bit. Replying to a comment and two. Smiling from time to time.

When I complained, she said that he was growing up. He wasn't the same person he before. I saw the same face as when the 11 year old arrogant boy stuck his head into our compartment 4 years ago. She told me people could change. I told her that maybe it was she who had changed.

Despite Potter, we were still friends. She still seemed to hate him as much as me, sometimes. But not always. Not like it used to be. Bitterly, I ground my teeth every time I saw them together. But I still had her. She still did homework with me every day after the classes were finished. It could still remain so.

But then the Slytherins started approaching me. I had been ignored for the most of my stay, unless one of them wanted help with their potion homework.

They asked if I wanted to join their "club".

I accepted.

Lily didn't like it. She asked why I spent time with the people who called her a mudblood. I asked why she spent time with the people who called me Snivellus and a greasy-haired vampire. Our bond were breaking. And didn't know what to do, as I saw it fall through my fingers like sand in an hourglass. Time ticked by. Every moment a bit too fast.

It was during the exam period the same year it broke. Like shattered glass, it fell down, cutting my skin open with a thousand emotional wounds.

Potter and his blasted gang hung me upside down. Lily defended me, as always. It was humiliating. Why didn't I see this coming? I could've defended myself! If they weren't such cowardly, arrogant shits… they could've held to their Gryffindor honour and fuelled me one on one!

And feeling ever so humiliated for having to rely on Lily for defending myself, I lashed out.

Mudblood.

_Mudblood._

The word I swore I would never call her.

It all broke apart from there. Glass shattered. Blood streamed through my broken fingers. It was clear, red blood.

Why did I call her that?

No… no, no no No NO!

The whole world's apologies didn't make up for my unforgivable mistake. Yet my lips formed a silent "I'm sorry" as I saw her red hair blow in the wind. She walked away.

Standing at her grave with a bouquet of red lilies 10 years later, I didn't know what I regretted more: calling her a mudblood or delivering the prophecy to the Dark Lord.

Maybe the first, as I wouldn't have lost her in the first place. Maybe we would've still been friends.

Lily, my sweet, fiery, Lily.

How I missed her.

I placed the flowers down.

They shone brightly against the monotone colours of the gravestone. Just like Lily had brightened up my own life.


	7. As Green as Killing Curses

Tom Riddle's favourite colour was green.

And not just any shade of green. It was _green. _

He had yet to pinpoint the name of that exact shade, but he knew it existed out there. He'd find out what to call it, one day.

Not many years later, at the age of 16, he discovered it when he murdered his father and grandparents.

Tom Riddle's favourite colour was green. Killing curse green.

50 years after, he still recalled the exact shade it produced—_oh and how the terrified face of his father was so beautifully illuminated by it_—as he committed patricide that day.

50 years later, when Ginny Weasley first touched the pages of his diary with her pink-coloured, frilly feather, he knew he'd find it again. He'd see the beautiful colour as bodies fell around him again and again and again and again… She poured her soul into him, and with each day, he felt himself grow stronger.

Tom Riddle laughed in realisation: _he'd walk the earth once more_.

He took it all with greed. Ate every single word up like a starving wolf. She was his now. She was too deep to ever surface again without permanent damage. She would never be able to get away… His. His. _His. _

And she wrote about Harry Potter. So much about Harry Potter. This curious boy… her celebrity crush, and apparently the defeater of his other version at the age of one? What an interesting boy. The Boy Who Lived, hero of the Wizarding World.

He really did want to meet this boy.

Luckily, it was Harry Potter who picked up his diary after… he did get a bit too excited, yes. _Scared poor Ginerva away. After my offhand comment about blood purity combined with the petrifactions, she did rather frightened. But she will come back. She's too deep…_

And Harry Potter was certainly interesting. A strange boy with strange eyes… Tom was disappointed when poor Ginny decided she couldn't handle the loss anymore.

But he knew he'd meet him again.

And so he did. Standing above Ginny Weasley's body watching with fascination as her breath became shallower and shallower was something he could've done for hours. Watching as her soul ultimately became _his. _But eventually, people always die. And so would Ginny Weasley.

But then he heard pair of running footsteps.

Harry Potter.

Arriving beside them, he said something about saving her. Or whatever rubbish he spouted off. But the moment Harry had come close enough, Tom had been lost to another world:

Seeing Harry Potter outside of the diary, made him realize that the darkest of magic could never even come close to imitating or conveying real life. Real life such as Harry Potter.

Mesmerising green eyes stared up at him in desperation. Mouths forming words lost to Tom's ears. Green. So green. They were _green. _Killing curse green.

Beautiful. Exquisite. Gorgeous.

There were no worthy words to describe them.

"Harry," Tom said, closing the distance between them. He stared into those killing curse green orbs as placed a finger over the boy's lips.

"Shhhh…" he said, feeling magic stream over his fingertips, effectively silencing the boy.

Harry looked close to panicking as he realized his voice was lost and he attempted to step backwards.

But Tom grabbed his arm and sent another push of magic to keep Harry's feet on the ground. With his other hand, the Slytherin cupped his face and tilted it up forcefully, still gazing into the green colour. He smiled.

Fear shined through in the younger boy's expression. He struggled against Tom's grip, but soon realised it was futile: the older boy was too strong.

_Why are you doing this? _His lips shaped the words, as no words came out.

"Hmm?" Tom made a distracted sound, but answered nonetheless. "Have anyone ever told you, that your eyes are beautiful?"

Harry moves his head slowly a little bit to the right, and then a little bit to the left, in a parody of shaking his head. He didn't manage to make a more sudden motion as Tom's hand was still gripping his chin.

"Good… wouldn't anyone else to have their eyes on you. Well, other than dear Ginerva here, but she is no longer a problem." He took a quick, uninterested glance at her still form—any disappointment of not having seen her last breath drowned in the sight of those green eyes—before returning his staring. "You're mine after all. This must simply be… _destiny._"

Harry looked terrified. Staring back at Tom with wide eyes, his breathing begun hyperventilating. He opened his mouth to cry out. Scream for help. For anyone. _Anyone…_

No sound came out. The silence was loud. Harry could only stare back.

Tom loved it. The younger boy's wide eyes did show off the exquisite green colour in such a wonderful way…

"Mine." He whispered, a wide grin forming on his lips. "_You're mine now._"


	8. It's lonely in my Mind

My head was lonely, when its only inhabitant was me.

It's weird, how I got accustomed to having a piece of a soul inside of my head. It only got weirder when that piece of a soul belonged to Voldemort, feared Dark Lord in the Wizarding World.

I didn't know at first.

The war was over. We lost so many… but even at their funerals, the nagging feeling of something being _wrong, _something _lacking, _was ever-present in my mind.

_I didn't realise what it was._

I was restless. Always looking around, unconsciously searching for something I never found.

Ron and Hermione told me that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were gone, and that I should try to stop being so paranoid now.

_Was I too late in realising it? _

I didn't tell anyone about the feeling of wrongness, assuming it was maybe something which was normal after a war. But then the months went and most of us returned to our 8th year. They all seemed ok. No one else than me looked so thoroughly uncomfortable with the utter normality. They shouldn't act so normal. Was I the only one who felt something was off?

_Maybe if I had gotten help sooner?_

I still felt it. Something wasn't as it should be… I searched and searched. What was wrong with me?

It almost felt like… that I wasn't whole.

That time, it hit me like an epiphany.

I grew up with a horcrux in my mind. My childhood filled with the constant presence of Voldemort's soul. I was never only Harry, but Harry and a little bit of Tom Riddle. And now I had become used to it. Without it, I was only Harry.

Without the little bit of Tom Riddle, I felt lonely.

_Suffocating. So suffocating._

Hogwarts was haunted by memories of the Final Battle.

The wall which blew Fred's life away was reconstructed. No debris on the ground. No blood splatters. It looked like any other wall at Hogwarts, and students walked past it like any other wall.

I ended up doing that too on my way.

Ghosts of the past were forgotten and ignored. The first years didn't understand. They hadn't seen it. The carnage, the death… so they acted like normal. And eventually, so did everyone else.

Months went by. I tried to act like everyone else. Act like I too, had returned to normal.

How did they do it? I didn't know, but they hadn't had the soul of a Dark Lord in their head either.

"Harry?" A voice interrupted my thoughts and flickering eyes. I continued walking, and our steps echoed through Hogwarts' walls. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" I replied, turning my head slightly in Hermione's direction. She looked concerned, which wasn't new considering my behaviour the last months.

"Harry." Her voice was firm. I sensed a longer lecture coming. "You don't need to deny it. I know you're not ok. I can see it. So please, Harry…" She stopped and grabbed my arm. I let her stop me. "I know Ron tells you that it'll go over. I know he thinks it will go over with _time_. But you've been going like this for _months_! Always looking around you, never fully participating… it's like you're not even here with us!"

Because I'm not. I'm not fully here, because a part of me is dead.

"How will we know it will get better at all with just going on like this? Please Harry. I just want to help you!" She threw me this pleading gaze, full of desperation. It made me want to spill out everything to her, just to get it away. She deserved so much better than a friend like me.

But I couldn't tell her.

I couldn't. Because I knew that if I told her, she would try to make me forgot about it. About him. About me. My missing piece.

Because that probably was the most healthy thing to do, and the most obvious choice to the average person. I knew, however, that I couldn't. It would be like forgetting myself. Forgetting a vital part of my own life. I didn't want to forget… no, I only wanted this glaring feeling of _wrongness _to go away. And for that to happen, I needed the piece of soul back.

But Voldemort was dead. And with him, his horcrux.

_My horcrux. _

"I'm fine Hermione," I shot her a smile, which I hoped was convincing enough for her to drop it, "just a bit tired."

She frowned back at me, not looking satisfied with my answer.

I begun walking again. She followed in silence.

_Where are you? Where am I?_

A storm was raging on. The ceiling in the Great Hall showed the raging wind and dark clouds outside, but even magic couldn't replicate the true nature of a storm.

This was why I found myself sitting on top of the Astronomy tower that Saturday evening. The stone floor was wet with rain. I didn't care. So I sat on the floor, gazing on how the raging storm swayed the trees and created small waves on the Black lake. Everything was in motion, and I was not. As if in the eye of a hurricane.

Ron and Hermione were off somewhere doing… was it some Charms project? I didn't remember. My mind wandered so much these days. I couldn't focus. Sometimes I wondered if the Professors gave me passing grades just because I defeated Voldemort. Because I certainly did not know what we were doing in any of the classes.

Wind blew my hair away. It had become longer, due to me forgetting to cut it. To be honest, I didn't mind it. It hid my face better, from everyone who wanted to stare.

Lightning illuminated the dark clouds in the distance. The following thunder rolled over Hogwarts like a thousand horses galloping over the sky. I closed my eyes, laying my head on the wet rock wall behind me. Breathing in, breathing out: tasting the cold air.

I could almost drown in this feeling. Almost get away from the impression of something lacking. Almost.

_Almost almost almost almost… Always just almost..._

My fist hit the wall behind me. I screamed out. A hoarse, wretched cry of despair. I didn't notice the throbbing pain in my hand, or how another bolt of lightning illuminated the red blood dripping down from it. My scream disappeared in the sound of the rolling thunder.

"I can't take this…" salty teardrops rolled down my face. "I can't… can't… _why did you have to leave?_" My fingers left red scratches as I clawed at my face. Looking. Looking for something I never found. Looking for something which wasn't anymore.

I wasn't there. Not me, not me... Where are you? Where am I? What am I supposed to do… who am I who am I who am I without you? Where are you?

_Please help me._

The New year rolled by like a creaking Thestral carriage: it was noticed, but most people tuned it out.

I didn't even notice I sat in a carriage.

Hermione got increasingly concerned. She tried to talk to me, include me in conversations. Sometimes, I didn't even reply. I felt guilty, but the feeling drowned in the encompassing loneliness. Everyone else were so far away… monotone colours faded into each other and I didn't manage to see the details without focusing. I didn't felt excited or particularly happy anymore.

A wisp of blonde hair entered my field of vision.

"Hi Harry!" Luna smiled up at me in her usual serene way.

"Luna," I greeted back. My eyes were already flickering away, looking for what which wasn't anymore. Luna's voice brought my attention back.

"Well...you're not really Harry anymore, are you?" She asked. Her smile stayed in place, but a sorrowful edge appeared. Almost pitying. "Harry's gone, at least a part of him. And now you're left here without him. Part of the soul moved on, another part remaining."

"I…" I looked at her, feeling that my surprise at her words were unjustified. If someone would've known my predicament, it would be Luna, after all. "Uh. Yes." I managed to say. What were you supposed to say to something like that anyways?

Luna didn't seem to take any offence to my lacking reply, still smiling. "I'm afraid the nargles didn't tell me what you could do, Part-Harry. But remember that things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."

_Sometimes I wondered if she knew how right she was?_

February came, and Hogwarts was suddenly decorated with small pink hearts. Not as bad as my second year with Lockhart, but more than usual. Maybe because they wanted to make up for the harsh regime of the Carrows.

Just after our first class–was it transfiguration we had? Or was it charms? Or was that yesterday? I didn't remember–I received a small red heart-shaped card. I considered just burning it up, but my new reputation of being an apathetic asshold would only grow. I opened it with clumsy fingers. With a flowery script, someone talked about my heroic actions or something, but on the other side was a drawing.

With smooth lines was the final defeat of Voldemort illustrated. His disintegrating form as my spell hit was drawn screaming towards the sky. A peculiar feeling in my chest appeared. It was like a stab to my heart. A painful contraction of my chest. What was this?

After all the months of nothing but loneliness, I almost didn't recognize the emotion. But I did. I wished I hadn't.

Grief.

_Grief grief griefgriefgrief so much grief._

When did I mourn the death of Voldemort?

I felt so incomplete, so lonely.

_I wonder if I realized that I was far too gone at this point._

Another storm hit Hogwarts in late March. I found myself skipping class just to sit and watch it. Watching dark grey clouds throw out the massive amounts of water.

My mind wandered back to Luna's words.

"Part of my soul has moved on… and another one stayed." I whispered, my voice barely audible over the raging wind and rain. Freezing drops of water hit my face. I didn't mind. Cold was something I still felt. I didn't feel much nowadays.

_I felt the burning pain of the knife running down my arms. Again and again..._

A tree in the distance succumbed to the wind. I didn't hear it when it hit the ground, the storm drowning the sound.

If a tree falls but no one is around to hear it, does it really make a sound?

Maybe I'm no one. Maybe I'm not there enough, to be considered a person anymore.

On shaky legs, I stood up, supporting myself with the wall. My own breath felt too loud to my own ears. Was I hyperventilating? The world blurred out.

Taking a few steps towards the edge of the tower, I stared down on the ground.

If a tree falls in the forest…

I gripped the stones under my fingers. My finger turned white under the strain.

Will I make a sound when I fall?

Am I whole enough to considered someone?

Will I be reunited… will I feel whole again?

Will this crippling loneliness go away?

A mad grin spread out on my face as I stepped upon the stone edge. With my decision in mind, I felt so free. My mind was clear and the loneliness all but gone.

_Free free free _

_finally free..._

The wind blew harshly against my small form. Rain made my clothes stick to my body and hair clinged to my forehead like a desperate man clinging to his unfaithful lover.

The storm sang to me.

_Jump, jump with us. Feel the freedom. Fly away from everything with us._

Maybe I was just mad with grief and hallucinating at that point, but I swore I could hear another voice calling out to me too.

_Come, come Harry. Us… together once more. You will never be alone again. Come to me… Reunited. Whole. Together._

I took another step.


End file.
